


The Unbearable Weight of Staying

by kw_writes



Series: Just This Once, and Never Again [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Ackeruncle, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Universe, F/F, Jean is a great wingman, Levi is a great uncle and a great wingman, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, it's about the yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kw_writes/pseuds/kw_writes
Summary: In letting someone leave, Mikasa finally finds someone who wants her to stay.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman & You, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/You
Series: Just This Once, and Never Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128434
Comments: 78
Kudos: 245





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
>  [ _I let you leave, I need someone who knows how to stay. - Warsan Shire_ ](https://genius.com/Warsan-shire-the-unbearable-weight-of-staying-annotated)   
> 

_This would be the last time._

This was the mantra Mikasa kept repeating to herself as she ambled through the streets looking for Eren again.

Ever since he left without another word, and the squad got notice that he was in Marley, they took turns looking for him when they could. Although they hadn’t been here for long, that didn’t mean they didn’t care to find him anyway. His letters told them the bare minimum, but they knew they couldn’t lose him. No matter the cost. In between planning, finding out information, surveying the lands, and meeting with each other — they did their damndest to look for him. And they turned up empty every time.

At first, the efforts were strong. Hange and Levi took it upon themselves to do most of the work with the rest of the corps serving as back up. But the longer they went without hearing from him, the more fruitless their efforts began to feel. Even Mikasa with all her dogged determination could feel her own hopes dwindling.

It was clear that Eren didn’t want to be found. And if Mikasa were being really honest with herself, she knew she’d lost him long before he’d even touched ground in Marley. From his distant, listless tone when he spoke, to the isolated pools in his once bright eyes...

At the thought of seeing his eyes again, Mikasa’s lips turned down into a sad smile.

She hadn’t seen them in a while, but she was sure nothing changed.

She knew that the next time she looked into those eyes, she’d see the same thing. The eyes that were once filled with radiant passion would now be colored with dark determination.

And as she passed another small shop on the street, Mikasa couldn’t help but stop and wonder.

Were those things always within Eren? Was she simply so blinded by her own feelings for him that she somehow let his darkness slip past her? Like plumes of smoke from the ashes of a fire, he had consumed her life for the past few years of her life. So much so that sometimes she felt like she was choking on it.

She shook her head and pulled her scarf up to better hide her face and to shake off her intrusive thoughts. It was time for her to go back. This would be the last time she’d go out looking for Eren again. He didn’t want anyone to find him. And it was always her running to him, wasn’t it? Never the other way around. She didn’t need to keep looking for someone who always left her behind.

That would be her final promise to herself.

She turned on her heels and began to head back towards where she came from, only stopping when a voice called out to her.

“Hello,” came the dulcet tone of your voice, accompanied with a grin on your face when she looked your way. “Would you like a rose?”

Mikasa paused.

Unconsciously, she brought up her scarf to hide up more of her face as she studied you. Somewhere along her walk, she had stumbled upon a small alley lined with shops. Owners and employees alike were lining the outside of the stores to sell their goods, and you were right there with them. Beige brick-and-mortar shops made her eyes glaze over, but your shop stood out from all the rest unlike theirs. With colorful bouquets in your window box and wicker baskets of carefully made bouquets out front, it was actually hard to miss you.

She stared at you again. This time for a different reason. Even on the sunniest day in Marley, your shop seemed lit from above. The sun rays kissed your face, your shop, and your flowers as if they were pulled to you and only you.

She cleared her throat.

“I don’t have money on me,” she lied, turning her head away so she could make her exit easier.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you said as you stepped away from the front door of your shop and closer to her.

You pulled out a single rose from one of your baskets and handed it to her with a smile.

“You don’t have to pay.”

“Why?” she asked without hesitation.

You watched as her sharp eyes turned to mistrustful ones, and stepped closer anyway, amused at her suspiciousness. You had been watching her for the past ten minutes. Although you often people watched when you were in your shop, there was something about the woman in front of you that drew you to speak to her directly. There was something wistful about her face as she wandered through the streets, lost in her own thoughts. You were sure that none of them seemed happy.

You tried to give her a tentative smile this time, hoping your gesture would come off as intended; from your heart.

“Roses always make people happy. Well, at least they make me happy,” you laughed. “Hopefully this will make you smile. Think of it as a gift.”

Mikasa’s eyes trailed up from your hands to your face, her expression softening while she did. Your voice was gentle towards the end and almost knowing in its tone. There was something so kind about it that she almost wanted to apologize for her weariness.

So, albeit with reluctance, Mikasa began to let down a few things. First, her scarf from obscuring her face. And then her guard.

“Thank you…” she whispered, taking the rose from your hand.

Her fingers lingered on yours for just a moment too long when she reached out for you. And upon seeing her pretty features up close, you felt yourself struggling to speak.

“My pleasure,” you said quietly, reluctantly pulling your hand away from her.

You disappeared back into your shop with a quickness even though every other vendor stayed where they were outside. Mikasa held the rose you gifted her close to her chest while she watched you from the small window of your shop. And as the silky petals grazed her warm, pink cheeks, she went back on her promise to herself. She didn’t even feel the thorns.

As she took one more long glance at your shop, Mikasa let out a sigh.

She would try to look for Eren one more time. **Just this once, and never again.**

After all, she didn’t spend enough time in this particular location anyway to really get a good glimpse of anyone.

Next time would be the last time.

* * *

_This is really going to be the last time_ , Mikasa told herself.

She was going to look for Eren one last time, and this time she wouldn’t get distracted by anything. No amount of people on the streets, shops, vendors, or a pretty woman handing her a free flower could stop her in her tracks today.

The streets were much quieter today. Perhaps it was one of those days in Marley. Mikasa wasn’t sure. They had been away from home for a little too long now, and it was hard for her to tell. Although it looked normal from its appearance, Mikasa never felt right here. She knew that something would prick the seemingly idyllic landscape this place was. And she was simply waiting for it. Whether it was going to be an act on their part, or Marley’s, or both — she knew she couldn’t afford to get comfortable here.

So she didn’t.

When she finally approached the streets where she was last time, she took a moment to look at the shops once again. None of the owners nor their employees stood outside today to sell their goods. Instead, everyone took comfort indoors. Peering up at the clouds hovering her, she couldn’t blame them. As a few people walked past her, she turned her head towards where your flower shop was and stared.

Your window boxes had new flowers in them, and gone were the baskets of bouquets from outside your shop. From the looks of the window, she couldn’t see any movement. It didn’t seem as if any of the stores were particularly busy today.

She wanted to leave. She did. But when she thought of your warm smile, Mikasa found her legs carrying her over to your shop before she could stop herself.

Maybe if she were lucky, Eren would be in here. Picking up flowers or pretending to work here. She told herself that was a good enough reason to go in.

Mikasa pushed the creaky wooden door open gently as if she were on a mission. She was careful not to disturb once she entered, but she was met with nothing and no one to disturb. The shop was empty. No other patrons, no you or any other employees — just Mikasa. And an array of flowers.

Amused, she stared at the wooden counter carefully placed near the front door. It was most likely where people paid. She laughed to herself as she looked more closely at it. Either you or someone else had taken the time to paint it some shade of bright blue, and haphazardly so. She could still see the paint marks from the pressure of the brush pressing too hard against the grain. Oddly enough, she thought it suited you. Although she only met you briefly, your little shop reflected what she thought of you.

It was bright and colorful.

Every little thing, from the basket of flowers, right down to the way you tied your bouquets up, were simple reflections of you.

Thoughtful. Sweet. Beautiful.

She sighed when she realized she couldn’t stay here much longer. It was a waste of time. Eren wasn’t here. And neither were you. Grabbing hold of her scarf, she pulled it back up to cover her face and headed towards the door.

“Oh, hello,” she heard your voice coming from the back.

Mikasa turned around to face you, and her eyes widened. You tilted your head at her, giving her a sweet smile while you did. But you said nothing to her.

Her heart dropped when she realized you didn’t recognize her, pangs shooting deep into her chest.

You forgot about her already.

Then again, why should she have expected you to remember?

She pulled her scarf up even more.

“I was just lea -”

“How’s your rose holding up?” you asked with a smile as you busied yourself with some nearby plants.

She stopped in her tracks and let her scarf drop, revealing more of her face. You did remember. And although she wanted to tell you that the rose held up well, she didn’t. She didn’t tell you that it sat in a little glass bottle on her nightstand. She also didn’t tell you she faithfully changed its water as much as she could. She didn’t tell you it was still beautifully red. Even one week later, it was still as lovely as it was the day you gifted it to her.

Mikasa told you none of that.

Instead, she asked you a question. “What’s your name?”

While you didn’t seem to mind her quietude, you did seem caught off guard by the sudden question. But you pulled yourself together quickly. She watched as you shook your head with a smile, and froze when you walked towards her. You extended your hand out and introduced yourself within moments.

And she loved your name. When you said it, it reminded her of a song. Whether that was because your name was that melodic to her or because it came from your mouth, Mikasa didn’t know. But if she could bottle the moment she learned your name, she would do it in a heartbeat.

When she caught your smile, she paused.

You were waiting for her to introduce herself in return.

It was rare that the squad interacted with the Marley locals for long when they would venture out. The occasional “hello, how are you?” to the man at the newspaper stands, sure. A “good morning”’ greeting to the tea shop owner when she’d grab Levi’s teas for him, of course. But it was never anything more than friendly small talk. Small talk that would keep suspicions low, but nothing that ever revealed anything about who they were. Or why they were really there.

She often gave fake names and pretended to be someone else. But when she looked at your face, Mikasa realized she didn’t want to do that with you.

“I’m Mikasa,” she whispered, taking your hand in hers.

She held it for a moment too long, but you never pulled away. Not like last time. Instead, you smiled and whispered her name in return, relishing in the warmth of her hand in yours.

“Nice to meet you, Mikasa,” you said, shaking her hand up and down.

Upon shaking her hand, you realized that they were callused like yours as if she worked with them. You could feel the hardened skin against your own. She even had scars across her knuckles like you did, only in different places. The warmth of her fingertips spread to your skin, shooting jolts up your arm and down to your stomach.

Her hand felt so nice in yours.

“Have you ever had your palm read?” you asked suddenly, not letting go of her hand.

It took Mikasa a moment to register what you said. She had never heard of a thing like that in her entire life. Was this something only people in Marley did? Was “palm reading” a real thing? She started to say the word, “what,” in an effort to respond to you but it never made it past her lips. You laughed.

“Have you ever heard of it?”

She shook her head no.

“It’s like fortune telling, except it’s done by reading the lines on your palm,” you said, slowly flipping her palm over. “Interested?”

You playfully tapped onto Mikasa’s hands with your fingertips, making her relax and drop her shoulders down. She sighed and shrugged as a response to you, but she never took her hand out of yours. You took this as permission to do your reading, so you began to trace her palm lines with the pads of your fingers. You went over each line (even the smaller) ones two times each, keeping your touch feather-light on purpose, noticing the way she’d shudder at the sensation here and there. Once you traced over every line, you placed your hand on top of hers and nodded.

“Alright, I have some good news and some bad news for you,” you said.

Mikasa tried to keep her expression neutral, but you knew better. If someone really paid attention to her, they could see all the subtle little changes her face made. While you had no idea what she was thinking of that day, right before you gave her the rose, you could see it in her face. The slightest downturn of her lips. The fading of light from her eyes. Her eyes gave away more than she knew, just like they did now. The faintest glimmer of interest sparked across them when you told her you had news, and this amused you. The woman only seemed stoic. But it was easy to get past once you studied her more.

You paused.

“The good news is you’ll have a really long life,” you said.

“How do you know that?”

You traced your finger down the curve where her index finger and thumb met, not missing the way her eyes fluttered shut when you did that.

“Do you see this line right here?”

She nodded.

“Your palm line here is long. Hence, long life. That’s good news,” you laughed.

Mikasa wasn’t so sure about that.

“And the bad news?” she replied softly.

“The bad news?” you let go of her hand and scrunched your face up. You shrugged. “Well, the bad news is I don’t know a thing about palm readings.”

For once, the stoic woman in front of you cracked a smile. And although it was small, you had to admit you loved the way it reached the corners of her eyes. Happiness suited her so well.

“Was there anything I could help you with today?” you asked as you began to get back to work.

The woman in front of you gulped as she watched you. She had almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. It really was to just...look for Eren. But he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“No,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, I was looking for someone. I should leave and let you get back to work.”

You chewed on your lower lip as you watched her approach the door to leave.

“I don’t mind if you stay.”

Mikasa turned back around to face you with an expression you couldn’t read. You shrugged.

“If you want to, that is,” you said, now bashful. “I don’t mind you being here while I work. You’re not bothering me...”

Although everything in her told her to leave and go home, Mikasa’s feet wouldn’t move.

The word “stay,” echoed in her mind, rooting her right to the ground. That word sounded like music to her ears. Again, she didn’t know if it was because of the simple melodic tone of the word or if it was because everything that tumbled out of your pretty mouth sounded like a song to her.

So she stayed.

And she talked to you for a moment too long.

Mikasa learned as much about you as she could. She discovered that you were just a little bit older than her by two years. She learned that your favorite roses were white ones. And she also learned that sometimes when you laughed, you’d snort a little bit.

And Eren didn’t cross her mind not once during her time with you.

She didn’t even remember she was looking for him in the first place.

* * *

Two weeks had passed and Mikasa felt like she should’ve known better. She stared at the glass bottle beside her bedside table with narrowed eyes and sighed. Using her thumb and index finger, she picked up one of the petals that had dropped from the rose you had given her. All she could do was stare at it. She knew the flower wouldn’t stay alive forever. But she tried so hard to keep it in its pristine condition. To time capsule the sweetness you had given it to her.

Now it was dying.

Being gentle with the gift you gave her was the least Mikasa felt she could do. And it seemed that she had failed.

She let out a long, disappointed breath, blowing her bangs away from her face.

“Mikasa,” a voice said suddenly.

She recognized the gruff, stern voice immediately.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Can I come in?”

Levi heard the shuffling of footsteps, and the door opened. Mikasa gave him a look all too familiar to him, if only because it was the same face he made when he had a lot on his mind.

“Why are you up so late?” he asked, not stepping in.

He watched as Mikasa walked back slowly to her bed. She sat with reluctance, then her eyes darted towards her nightstand and back to Levi.

“Can’t sleep,” she mumbled.

Levi’s eyes trailed over slowly to the wilting rose, then back to Mikasa.

When Eren initially left, she acted and behaved as most of the squad expected her to. Worried. Forlorn. Sad. Similar to how she acted any time that idiot was in danger. But something changed over the past two weeks as there was a glimpse of a Mikasa he never saw before. It was hard to miss the slight joy in her step. He caught it mostly whenever she’d change out the water for the rose next to her bedside. One time, he swore he heard her humming.

He didn’t even know she was capable of doing shit like that.

Levi leaned back against the door and folded his arms across his chest. He paused before speaking. He sighed.

“If you hang that thing upside down to dry, you can keep it for longer.”

Perking up, Mikasa sat up straighter and looked his way.

“Anywhere dark and cool will do,” Levi continued. “Or you can just put it in a book.”

“A book?”

“Yeah. Open up a book, place that thing in there, then close it shut and weigh it down for a few days.”

Silence passed between the two of them as Mikasa mulled over her options. She wanted to try to salvage the rose as soon as possible. But from the sounds of the rain pitter pattering on her window, she knew that drying it upside down wasn’t an option available to her at the moment.

“Are there any books around?” she asked quietly.

Levi sighed and unfolded his arms.

What he should’ve done was ask her where she had gotten the damn thing from in the first place. What he should have also asked was who gave it to her. He should’ve asked why she cared so much.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked away and remembered that Hange had a big ass book on Titans lounging around somewhere. Why they lugged that stupid thing here with them, he had no idea. They knew enough about Titans anyway.

He looked back at Mikasa’s face and saw that it was now filled with something that looked too close to hope.

He paused.

Hange would be fine without it.

“Yeah. I’ll get it for you.”

Shifting his weight now, Levi turned on his heels to leave in search of Hange’s books, along with a few other books to help weigh down her soon-to-be pressed flower. He didn’t miss Mikasa’s little smile to herself when he left either. And although he had a litany of questions for her, he kept them to himself.

Mikasa had found some joy.

He supposed he could always ask another time.

* * *

“Do you want to come out with us?”

Jean leaned against Mikasa’s door frame with caution when he approached her room.

She had been moping around for the past two weeks, and no one could figure out why. Two weeks prior to that, she had gone out twice. One time, she came back with a rose and told no one where she got it from. The second time, she came back late, but smiling.

Then she stopped going out. And when asked about it, she wouldn’t answer. But Jean figured it had something to do with Eren.

Then again, didn’t it always?

Jean coughed, making Mikasa turn her head towards him. She had been looking off into the distance for a while. On her lap was a heavy book about the Titans. He watched as her long, slender fingers danced over the spine of the book, waiting for her to answer him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“We’re going to go to one of the bars around here. Apparently it’s pretty popular, particularly with their soldiers. Hange figured we could go and do some reconnaissance. They also said we should ‘let loose’, whatever that means.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, Connie, and Sasha,” Jean let out a long sigh. “We won’t stay long.”

Jean waited patiently by the door as Mikasa thought it over. When she placed the book onto her nightstand and popped off her bed without another thought, he knew he had his answer.

Truthfully, they didn’t need Mikasa to come along. But he hated seeing her so despondent. He hated seeing her stuck over someone who did not feel the same way. He hoped that she would say yes. Because even if they weren’t going to stay long, it would give her something to do other than sit in her room and think about Eren.

“An hour and then we should come back,” Mikasa commanded when she approached Jean at the door.

Jean’s brow raised at her tone. It was so authoritative that it almost reminded him of Captain Levi.

He shook his head in amusement and let out a soft laugh.

“An hour and we’ll come back,” he repeated after her with no protest.

The bar wasn’t a far walk from where they had stationed themselves. Although it wasn’t teeming with people, it was still fairly busy. But the purpose of being here wasn’t for pleasure, it was for business. They needed to know all they could about their enemies, whatever it took. And although he hated the idea of being out in the open, he chose to chalk it off as his own paranoia. Four years had changed all of their appearances by quite a lot. The odds of running into anyone familiar was slim. And even if that didn’t work, all of them had done a good enough job at blending in by now.

The place was large, with tables lined up the sides of the wall and a few tables scattered in the middle of the room. Towards the back was a door to the kitchens. And to the side of that was a small bar where a few patrons were already sitting. Despite the relaxed attitude of everyone in the building, the group didn’t let their guards down. Connie and Jean kept their hats on and faces tucked down low. Sasha tried to hide behind Mikasa. And Mikasa had her face hidden behind her scarf.

They had gotten used to hiding even when the situation didn’t call for it.

“I’ll get us a table,” Sasha said first.

“Thanks, Sasha. I can get the drink -”

“I’ll get them,” Mikasa interrupted, cutting Jean off and walking past him.

The three of them watched as she walked away with haste to go towards where the bar was, befuddled by her shift in mood. They all shared knowing looks with each other in slow motion before Connie sat down at the table Sasha was motioning to. He cocked a brow up at his friends when they sat down, and they both shook their heads at him. It wasn’t worth discussing especially since they could all bet that it had something to do with Eren.

As always.

Over at the bar, Mikasa ushered her way through the small crowd of people to order a round of beers for the group. If she were being truthful, this was the distraction she needed. Not just from Eren, but from everything...especially you. She thought about you far too often for her own good. After all, you were nothing more than a kind stranger who handed her a rose on a bad day. Had it really been that long since she’d experienced such simple kindness? Was she really that lonely since Eren left?

Or was it something else she didn’t want to admit to?

Was it the mere fact that every time you smiled, and smiled at her (for her), that she felt her stomach blooming from inside out? Was it your adorable laugh, which she liked so much that she actually tried to joke more just to pull out more of those cute sounds from you?

Was that why she couldn’t shake you from her mind?

Regardless of whatever it was, Mikasa knew she had to let it go. Let you go.

They had other things to focus on, and she couldn’t lose sight of that.

She had to forget about you.

“Mikasa?” she heard a now familiar voice say.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Why did her name always sound sweet coming from you?

You grinned when she turned and whispered your name.

“What are you doing here?” you asked with a smile.

“With friends,” she pointed to a group behind you, sitting at a table.

When you turned to look at them, you saw they were gawking at the two of you. But once they made eye contact with Mikasa, they turned away.

She blinked in disapproval at them for a few seconds then turned back to you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Also with friends,” you pointed to a group further away from her own.

She nodded.

“I should let you get back to them, then,” she said quickly.

You frowned at this. When she turned on her heels to grab her drinks, you reached out a gentle hand to her. You then tugged on the sleeve of her shirt with light force, making her face you. The knit of her brows made you laugh. She always seemed so worried that she was invading your space which was amusing to you. You wanted nothing more than for her to be around. And you liked being around her.

“They can wait for me, Mikasa,” you said softly, smiling when you watched the corners of her lips turning up.

The “stay” was silent this time but she still heard it.

Not that you needed to ask her anyway.

Her feet planted firmly to the ground as soon as she felt your presence.

From a distance, the group watched as Mikasa continued conversing with you. At first, they assumed you were a waitress or the bartender. But the longer she spoke to you, the more they realized that wasn’t the case at all.

“Should we do something?” Sasha asked Jean nervously.

“Right...Hange did say we shouldn’t talk to the locals too much,” Connie said in support. “We’re really just here to do some...work.”

Jean paused and watched the scene before him.

For the first time in a long time, he saw Mikasa grin. It wasn’t the shy or small smiles he’d see here and there from her. But it was a genuine smile stretching across her face. In your presence, there was a sincerity to her happiness. Not once during her conversation with you did she touch her scarf or attempt to hide her face with it.

Jean shook his head.

“Give them their privacy,” he said.

And with that, he flagged down the nearest waitress so he could order drinks for the group that way.

Mikasa talked to you for the rest of the night over by the bar. And no one in their group knew what about. Jean wouldn’t entertain any predictions when Sasha or Connie speculated, and not once did he come over or let Sasha and Connie even step a foot closer to the two of you. Even when he felt the hour coming to a close, he hesitated to pull Mikasa away. As he looked down at the pocket watch he had borrowed from Captain Levi, he paused. Then he looked back up at the two of you from where he was sitting.

He caught another rare sight as you had just made Mikasa laugh. It wasn’t a small giggle. It was the deep kind of laugh that came from one’s belly and echoed across the room.

He didn’t even know Mikasa was capable of laughing like that.

With another sigh, he waved politely to the waitress near him and ordered one more round of drinks for the group. Hange did tell them to let loose. It wasn’t disobeying orders if they did that instead of reconnaissance work instead.

He glanced back up at the two of you.

Five more minutes of reconnaissance work, and then they could go home.

* * *

Five minutes.

Mikasa had been staring out the window in complete silence for the past five minutes since they’d received Eren’s last letters.

He was ready to make his move and they had no choice but to help him, lest they lose him altogether.

It was set to happen a week from now during some festival, and as soon as they were done, they could go home.

Mikasa should’ve felt relieved. Like a salve to a wound, knowing she’d finally see Eren again should’ve felt like the balm she thought he always was. But it wasn’t. Instead, it tore her apart.

This plan going off without a hitch meant they could go home.

She’d have Eren again.

Going home meant leaving Marley.

Leaving Marley meant losing you.

And no matter how pervasive the thought was, she knew she couldn’t see you again. She couldn’t bear to know it’d be the last time she’d ever hear you sing her name for her again. She couldn’t bear being in the same room with you anymore, only allowed to steal feather-light touches and glances from you when she wanted so much more. Not only could she not do that because of who she really was, because of who you were, where you lived — but because she knew that as soon as she heard your pretty little voice saying her name, her feet would root her to the ground once again. And she’d never leave then.

That long life you saw in her palm lines must not have included you.

“Oi,” a harsh voice barked out, making Mikasa tear her gaze away from the window and towards the person calling for her.

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor,” Levi said. “I need you to go on a tea run.”

“Okay,” Mikasa replied, her voice empty.

She walked towards the door and grabbed her jacket off the coat hanger.

“Same place as always?”

Levi cocked a brow up at her to study her face, if only for a moment. Her eyes were baggy, round and rimmed with purple and yellow. And her porcelain skin looked like cracked clay. Some pieces of her hair even stuck up like she didn’t bother to find a brush this morning. It would have been rude for him to comment on her appearance, but the words momentarily caught themselves in his throat. After all, the least she could do was look nice considering where he was really trying to send her.

He shook his head and handed her a small folded note.

“No. Go here. It’s cheaper,” was all he said before turning away and leaving Mikasa all by herself.

With raised brows of her own, she watched as the short man walked away from her before opening the note. Levi had failed to write a street address down. Instead he only wrote the name of the shop itself. Mikasa frowned. It almost sounded familiar but she couldn’t place why. And she honestly didn’t feel like chasing Levi down to ask for more information.

If only because she swore it was where she thought it was.

In those moments when she’d close her eyes before bed and imagine the safest place she could be, she could envision the front of your shop. She could smell the sweet jasmine flower and tonka bean because that was what you smelled like. And if she really focused, she could smell the faintest of tea leaves.

Her feet never ran faster once she had that moment of realization.

* * *

Her mind cleared as she darted to you. For a few reasons. She knew exactly where she was going. And she realized something.

Levi didn’t need tea because Armin and Jean had just gone out three days prior to pick up some for him.

That midget wasn’t sending her along to find his balm, but _hers_.

And as she rounded the corner to the familiar street, her heart jumped. This time, she didn’t hesitate to open the door to your shop. But when her hands reached out for the handle and it jiggled and stopped in her grasp, she let out a gasp. Locked. You were closed.

Her heart sank to her stomach.

“Mikasa?”

Her eyes practically welled up upon hearing this melody — your melody for her. She almost got whiplash from the way she turned around.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

You noticed the pink in her cheeks and instinctively raise a hand up but keep it to yourself.

“Yes,” she breathed out, smiling at your raised hand.

“Oh, good,” you subconsciously put your hand down when she noticed. “I’m closed today. Was there anything you needed?”

She blinked at you a few times.

“...yes,” she said, eyes never leaving you.

You stood in silence with her as the two of you stared at each other, unable to tear your gazes away from each other. And then she’s close...so close you could feel the heat of her skin even without her touching you. From the way she reached for your face, you swore it’d be rough. That her lips would have smashed against yours clashing teeth and tongue.

But it wasn’t.

As her mouth moved in yours, it’s nothing but soft and sweet. It’s everything Mikasa wanted to say to you over the past few weeks but couldn’t say. It’s every quiet moment she had with you when she wanted to talk. It’s every moment she didn’t let her touch or her presence linger long enough. It took her far too long to get here.

But the wait was worth it.

Because every sound she managed to pull from your mouth was yet another song to her. Every gasp, breathy whimper, and pant against her lips combined with the intoxicating way you sang her name was all she needed to hear.

Only when your hands fisted into her shirt bumping her back into the shop door did the two of you pull away.

But the knowing glances you shared then was different than the one you shared before you kissed.

Neither of you wasted a moment running upstairs to your apartment above the shop.

Mikasa spent that night pulling different sounds from you in whatever way she could learn, relishing in all the moans and mewls and “Mikasa” falling from your lips. Exactly like she thought, everything that came from your mouth sounded like music to hers. And when she’s two knuckles curled deep inside you for the third time that night, she does her best to remember every fall and crescendo of your voice.

She did her best to remember everything about you that night and the following morning.

* * *

The first thing you’re greeted with when you open your eyes was Mikasa’s back. You had never seen anyone who slept so soundly and so still; you could barely see her chest rising and falling due to how gentle her body behaved during rest. Gently, you reached out to run your fingers down the curves of her neck before pressing a kiss to it. A lazy arm draped across her waist, and in no time, you felt it brought up to her chest as she anchored the feeling of you close to her heart.

She could feel your lips opening across her back, chapped and plumped from the previous night and earlier morning, and she already knew what you wanted to say.

Because it was something you repeated to her over and over again through the night.

_“Stay.”_

“Stay,” you said as you straddled her leg and grinded against her hip.

“Stay,” you mumbled against her lips as your fingers slipped past her folds for the third time in the night.

“Stay,” you whined as you peppered lazy, tender kisses across her face in the morning.

_“Stay.”_

It was something she seldom heard in her life, and she never realized she loved a simple word so much. But every time you asked, her feet rooted her to the earth. And she stayed.

So she stayed with you for longer than she should’ve, lost in the world the two of you had created overnight. She stayed even when the sun set. When no one had come looking after her (meaning they didn’t think she was in danger), she took time away from being in between your legs to being behind you in the kitchen, helping you cook.

Mikasa stayed for as long as she could because she wasn’t sure how long she had with you.

Because somewhere in the middle of the night, when her fingertips traced across your palm line — right where the curve of your index finger and thumb met — she noticed that the line felt painfully short. And although she couldn’t read palms and you were likely full of crap, too, it didn’t stop the way her heart crumbled in her chest.

She stayed for as long as she could. 

If only because the weight of letting you go was nothing but unbearable. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is somewhere in the middle of the afternoon after Mikasa kissed you and went back to your apartment with you. She hasn’t left. Yet. 
> 
> And you should listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcj2k113OzE) while you read because this is what I listened to while I wrote!

**_Afternoon._ **

Spending the day with you felt like late night nostalgia for Mikasa.

It was the kind of longing and yearning one only feels in the dead of the night, when the world is quiet and you owe nothing to anyone. When there are no expectations of you, no burdens, little to few responsibilities except for the need to sleep; and even then, little guarantees regarding that, too. She felt weightless in your presence, in the best way possible. In other words, she felt serene. 

Being around you was blissful, quiet, and sweet and you expected nothing of her. 

Even when you begged for her to stay, you didn’t _expect_ her to do it—she could leave or go at her own free will any time. It didn’t matter what decision she made—you never pressed (although you did try to tempt)—she was free to do as she pleased. It was almost as if you knew she was going to do whatever she wanted to anyway and made sure to give her her freedom, just in case. 

She had never felt this kind of peace before in her life. And being sequestered with you in your small apartment right above your shop was a sanctuary in and of itself. It was partially due to the mere fact that you occupied the place, and the other half was due to the fact that your apartment was very much like your flower shop; completely representative of you. 

Mikasa wasn’t the least bit surprised to find more odd, mismatched wooden furniture in your little place, crudely put together either by you or someone else. Her favorite thing was the small shelf you had in your kitchen. It was painted a bright yellow and stacked with jars of honey, pots and pans, cups, plates, and of course flowers. On the top of the shelf, you had placed honeysuckles and wildflowers together in a vase and it was the most fragrant thing one could smell as soon as they walked by the kitchen. 

It was bliss. Or maybe you were. 

She honestly couldn’t tell after a while. 

“What are you thinking about?” you murmured, reaching a hand out to brush away strands of hair away from her face and pulling her out of her thoughts. 

She reached up for your hand and pressed it to her cheek, pausing as she admired the warmth of your eyes and pout of your lips. 

“My hair’s too long,” she said suddenly. 

You let out a soft laugh.

“What?” 

She removed your hand from her face but kept your hand in hers. 

“My hair. It’s too long,” Mikasa repeated while she idly played with your fingers. 

You frowned at this and reached out to run your hand through her silky strands again, making her sigh and lean into your touch. 

“I think it looks beautiful,” you answered after a while. 

Mikasa closed her eyes at this, reveling in the praise you gave her. Your answer was so earnest, so honest, and so genuine; she wasn’t sure how to tell you that it was necessary that she cut her hair. Although it had grown since they’d been in Marley, she didn’t know how to tell you that she couldn’t keep it long. A voice echoed in her head every time she saw her strands getting past her ears again, something about it getting caught in her ODM gears and whatever else. But she refused to let it echo in her mind now. Not in your presence.

“But,” you said after a while, bringing her out of her thoughts again, “if you want to cut it, I can do it for you.” 

Her eyes flashed open at this. 

“Only if you trust me to,” you continued sheepishly. 

You raked your fingers through Mikasa’s hair while she thought of an answer, and she played with the hem of your button-up shirt (her shirt) for a while before finally replying to you. It wasn't long before she leaned in to give you a soft peck on the lips, and mumbled a quiet, “okay,” to you.

* * *

Your heart hammered in your chest as you sat on your bathroom counter while Mikasa stood in between your legs. With both of your legs draped around her sides, she kept her grip on your hips and rubbed small circles on your thighs while you used a wet cloth to dampen her hair for her. Neither of you exchanged a single word and you didn’t have to. She was entrusting you to do something for her that she normally only did for herself, and you were determined to do a decent job of it. You began to comb out her hair, readying your scissors to cut while she directed to you how much to take off. 

“This much?” you asked as you held out about an inch of hair up to her face to show her. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you _sure?_ ” 

She squeezed your sides, making you giggle.

“ **Yes** ,” she emphasized. “Do it.” 

Mikasa watched as you chewed on your lower lip as you were still cautious to close the scissors around her hair. She waited for you to inevitably put your hands down again, which you did in a matter of seconds. She sighed. 

“What if I mess up?” you panicked. 

“You won’t,” she said.

“But what if I do?” 

“You won’t.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine with it either way,” she cut you off, giving you a stern look. 

It was the same kind of commanding presence she held with you in bed, particularly when she told you to sit on her face after you’d demonstrated to her what to do. You shuddered at the memory while Mikasa caressed your thighs knowingly. 

“Just do it,” she said much softer this time. 

You let out a sigh and stared at her face, almost in awe of how sweet her features were when she wasn’t thinking of a million things. She really was a beautiful person, and you wondered if she knew just how captivating she was. Shaking yourself out of your own thoughts, you readied your scissors and comb then nodded at her. Mikasa relaxed a little more once she realized you were confident in what you were doing, and her shoulders dropped down.

And the two of you remained there in the bathroom, nothing but the sounds of your steady concentrated snips and the falling of her hair on your bathroom floor for a while. Somehow, you felt more naked in her presence this way even though you were in her shirt and she was in yours. There was something so much more vulnerable in this moment compared to being in bed with her, but you weren't complaining. It was nice. And you couldn't wait to have more moments like this with her. 

“Is there a reason you like it short?” you asked out of curiosity as you finished your last few cuts. 

She stopped rubbing circles on your thighs for a second and pressed down with both thumbs, pausing in thought. 

“I just like it this way,” she finally said after a beat. She paused again. “...do you not like it?” 

“Are you being funny?” you laughed. 

From the serious look on her face, you could tell she wasn’t.

So she didn't know how stunning she actually was.

You put your scissors and comb down into the sink behind you, and cupped her face in your hands. 

“You’re beautiful to me either way,” you whispered sincerely as you leaned in to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek. 

When you pulled away, Mikasa’s cheeks were bright red and from the way her hands reached up for her neck, you could tell she wanted to grab her scarf like she always did when she was nervous or overwhelmed, something you had learned quickly over the past few weeks of knowing her. Being that the scarf was lying somewhere in your living room along with the rest of your clothes and hers, she had no security and chose to hide her face in your neck instead. It was adorable how embarrassed she was. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled against your skin.

You giggled. 

“You’re welcome, beautiful,” you teased, locking your legs around her waist a little tighter. 

She pulled her head up away from your neck, face still visibly red even as she whispered another “thank you” to you. You smiled at this and smoothed her hair down. 

“Do you want to see?” you asked as she kept your hand in hers, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles. 

“Yes,” she replied. 

Before you could hop off the counter, Mikasa had encircled her arms around your waist so she could bring you down herself. You stepped behind her so she could fully see herself in the mirror. 

“Do you like it?” you asked, your voice tentative and small as you hugged her from behind. 

Mikasa stared at her reflection and yours for a second before finally playing around with her hair, checking it from different sides. You’d done a beautiful job. She was right to trust you with so much as you followed every little direction she gave you. It was rare that she trusted other people to do things for her. Independent and self-determined at an early age without wanting to be, she learned quickly that if she wanted to do something, it had to be done on her own. Still, being able to hand over her trust to you felt good. Even with something as simple as cutting her own hair. It felt like a sigh of relief to relinquish that over to you. She only wished she could give you so much more. If time were on her side—if life were on her side—she would surrender everything to you. 

She sighed and moved her bangs back in place, her bright eyes catching the way you’d subtly admire her here and there. She gave you a small grin and put her hands over yours, holding you back in place. The two of you stood there like that, embracing each other for a while before Mikasa put her hands down and you let go. With one last glance to the mirror, she huffed out a little breath and nodded, then turned to face you. She smiled again when she looked at your face, so sweet and full of want and her approval for what you'd done for her. 

“It’s perfect,” she said after a while. “Thank you.” 

You beamed back at her in return, and suddenly Mikasa didn't know if she was talking about her hair or you anymore. 

She wasn't sure. 

All she knew was that it really was **perfect**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another companion piece for Mikasa's one-shot cause it's the sweet birthday baby's birthday today! 
> 
> If you were curious to what part of the day she spent with the reader looked like, here's a peek. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely jae-ren on tumblr and on here for the suggestion! 
> 
> For more updates on when the next installment of this series is or if you just wanna chat, follow me on [tumblr.](https://love-dontbeshy.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> That one kiss line is 100% borrowed from “Two Headed Boy Pt. II” which is why it’s listed as one of the songs above, and of course the ending line is super inspired by Warsan's poem, which is quoted above and an inspired title of this story. 
> 
> Mikasa is pretty hard to write for, but I had this story in my mind since "The War Hammer Titan" episode. 🥺❤️
> 
> If you'd like to know when the next installment of this one-shot series will be updated, feel free to follow me on my new [tumblr](https://love-dontbeshy.tumblr.com/). This is really just a place to shoot the shit/talk AOT.


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